


Sleeping Beauty

by Simara



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: "He wanted to go home and pull the covers all the way over his head until the ringing in his ears stopped and his heartbeat didn’t hurt anymore. Instead he was stuck, starring at himself pressed close to this stranger in a never ending out-of-body experience."Or: The one were Jonah wants to introduce his new body to Peter and Elias has a panic attack.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Jonah Magnus/Peter Lukas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 147





	Sleeping Beauty

Elias had once read an article about a woman with narcolepsy. He couldn’t remember many of the finer details but there was one thing that had staid with him throughout the years. There had been a paragraph – it might have been a direct quote, now that he was thinking about it – that described the creeping terror of sleep paralysis. It had made his whole body tingle unpleasantly to imagine how it must feel to be fully conscious yet unable to move, to speak. Well, he did not have to imagine it any longer and somehow it turned out to be even more nauseating than he could have pictured. It had sent him into a useless panic at first but by now he had almost come to terms with the fact that he was as good as dead – would actually be dead soon, if the man was to be believed. Elias did not have much reason to doubt him. Hell, it was positively hard to doubt the word of a two hundred year old worshipper of fear who’d tied you down and gouged out your eyes in order to take up residence in your body. Granted, Elias didn’t _feel_ dead, not yet at least. He felt stuck. Paralysed. Tired. No one had ever told him how exhausting it was to be afraid. Besides – and this shouldn’t bother him as much as it did – once the fright had settled into numbness, being taken over by a foreign entity was surprisingly boring. For the last three hours, for instance, Jonah Magnus has been staring at payrolls, doing calculations and scribbling in the margins. Elias was positively relieved when there was –

There was a knock at the door. Jonah smiled. He took a moment to smooth down his hair and lean back in the old leather chair.

“Come in.” The man who entered was tall, broad shouldered and barely there. Elias had to concentrate to see his features, his blank expression. He felt a surge of fondness from Jonah, strong enough to make him distrust the newcomer instantly. Jonah didn’t greet his guest as cordial as his emotions might have warranted – his voice was polite, slightly smug, and his words were formal:

“Good evening Mr. Lukas. I’m glad you could make it.” The man hummed half-heartedly, not meeting Jonah’s eyes.

“Don’t get used to it.” Peter Lukas forewent sitting down in favour of making a show out of inspecting one of the new monogrammed letter openers Jonah had ordered after taking Elias’ body. “Thank you for the invitation but you won’t be seeing much of me in the future if I can help it, Mr. Bouchard.” Peter finally raised his gaze to meet Jonah’s with a cold smile. It shattered into a thousand pieces as their eyes locked and recognition set in. Elias could almost taste the mischievous glee Jonah felt at the sight of this Peter Lukas utterly confused. Neither of them expected him to slap them, though. It stung but Jonah refused to show an outward reaction.

“How dare you –“

“Hello again, Peter.”

“What – what is this, James? How – No, I don’t want to know. You should have told me!”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” Peter looked as though he was more than ready to throw something.

“I thought you were dead!” Jonah shrugged slightly.

“Surprise?” For a moment, Elias thought the man would hit Jonah again but when he raised his hand this second time it brought a much gentler touch: His thumb brushed softly against the bruised skin around Elias’ – Jonah’s – god, Elias didn’t even want to think about it – eyes. The touch was intimate and gentle and Elias would have recoiled if he’d had any agency left.

“You should have told me.” The man repeats, gentler this time. “I would have helped you.”

“Would you? I don’t think you’d have the stomach for it. This one put up quite a fight.” Peter brushed his hands over Elias’ chest, tracing each rib through the expensive dress shirt.

“Poor skinny little thing.”

“Not your type?”

“I liked the old you just fine.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“I almost forgot how tiresome you are.” Jonah twisted the stolen face into a devilish grin.

“And yet you missed me.” Peter didn’t argue. He seemed exhausted. The sudden reunion had drained him. Two weeks ago he had buried and mourned James Wright and now he had to dig him up all over again. It wasn’t fair but then again Peter was used to that, at least. Jonah tugged him closer, pulling him down to capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss. Peter gave in easily enough, forgetting his exasperation over the delicious hurt of being close to Jonah once more. He had missed this, truly missed each painful part of their doomed affair. Peter grabbed Jonah’s new body by the hips, half to steady himself, half out of a petty desire to see them bruise.

Elias felt sick. He wanted to go home and pull the covers all the way over his head until the ringing in his ears stopped and his heartbeat didn’t hurt anymore. Instead he was stuck, starring at himself pressed close to this stranger in a never ending out-of-body experience. His mind was haunted by thoughts and desires and pictures that came right from Jonah Magnus’ brain and he didn’t want any of it. Didn’t want Peter’s dry lips against his, didn’t want his cold hands finding their way underneath his shirt, brushing his skin possessively, didn’t want this to go any further, didn’t want–

Jonah was thrilled. It had been years since he’d been inhabiting a body this young and he was looking forward to giving it a proper test run. He had forced himself to wait a full two weeks before inviting Peter to his office, trying to prove to himself, to both of them really, that there was no urgency, nothing sentimental in their feelings. He only broke their kiss to turn his attention towards Peter’s throat, bared and vulnerable and pale. He kissed the tender spot right over Peter’s pulse, graced it with just enough teeth to make Peter moan.

“James”, Peter murmured, causing Jonah to bite down hard.

“Elias”, he hissed. “Keep up”.

Elias wanted to scream, to claw his way free but all he managed to do was to work himself into a panic. The man was pushing his hand deeper, groping, breaching ink-blue trousers on his way down, down… Elias felt every touch and his chest – the chest that wasn’t his any longer – was tight and painful and bursting. He could feel the stranger’s beard scratch against his skin but he couldn’t shove him away. The man’s breath was warm and heavy and it all became too much, he didn’t –

Jonah flinched violently, then narrowed his eyes. Elias could feel a sharp pain as Jonah attempted to push back against his surging fear, tried to dull him into submission. Peter took a step backwards, raising his hands.

“James, what was that?”

“Nothing”, Jonah said, voice strained with effort. He was a little breathless, somehow unable to inhale deeply. “This body just needs some breaking in.” Peter seemed a little concerned by that.

“Are you alright? Do you want some water?”

“I’m fine”, Jonah said sharply, reaching up to loosen his tie.

“You’re hands are shaking.” Jonah wanted –

Elias wanted to kick and scream and make a run for it, wanted to lock himself into a storage unit or hide underneath Rosie’s desk. He could feel tears in his eyes – no, not his eyes, but tears none the less – and the strange man was grasping his arm now, steadying Jonah with hands made of iron, reminding Elias of how thoroughly trapped he was. He didn’t want –

Jonah sat down on the edge of the desk and closed his eyes wearily. This was quite enough. He gritted his teeth and pushed against the pesky consciousness that was trying to choke him with its wailing. He pushed and pushed and _pushed_ until he could feel Elias Bouchard bend and break beneath his will, not gone, unfortunately, but far less vocal in his anxiety.

Elias’ mind was hurting and his vision was red and blurry but he couldn’t help but feel triumphant. The man wasn’t touching him any more and by the look on his face he wasn’t going to anytime soon, at least not like _that_. Maybe he wouldn’t be hurt today after all; maybe it would all be alright. Maybe, just maybe, when he’d wake up tomorrow it would all have been a bad, bad dream. Elias wanted –

Jonah flinched as Peter brushed his thump against his cheek.

“You’re bleeding”, Peter said quietly, offering him a handkerchief. “Here.” Jonah snatched it away, pretending not to be embarrassed. “What did you mean by ‘breaking in’? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing unusual”, Jonah aimed for nonchalance and missed it by whisker. “It takes time for me to take control. Some of them linger longer than other’s. This one’s got more stamina then I gave him credit for.” Peter took a step backwards, struggling for composure.

“Please tell me you’re joking. _Please_ tell me he’s dead.”

“Well, technically he is. Picture him as an echo, nothing more. Trust me, it’s just me in here.”

“You know, James, you might think that sounds reassuring but the fact that you have to say that at all is not necessarily making me believe you.”

“Relax, Peter. Don’t worry your little head about it. Elias Bouchard, or what’s left of him, will be nice and quiet now.”

“He didn’t seem to be too thrilled at me kissing you – him – god –“ a sudden realization made Peter’s face harden. “I’m not going to rape you. No part of you.” Jonah made a dismissive sound.

“He’ll have to get used to you anyway. I’d rather not throw out all of him. They tend to come in useful, now and then. Besides, it’s not like you minded with James.” Peter’s voice got a bit of an hysteric edge.

“I didn’t even know then! And you– he didn’t–” Peter gestured wildly. “Communicate.”

“It takes time for them to merge with me but trust me: He’s dead, Peter. What’s left of him is just a part of me now and that’s all he’ll be in a week or two.” Jonah reached for Peter’s neck and smashed their mouths together in a toothy kiss. Peter had to physically push him away to get some space.

“Stop. This isn’t –“ Jonah almost rolled his eyes as he grabbed Peter’s collar and pulled him forwards once more. He was done with all the talking. Peter surprised him by grabbing his arms firmly and shoving him away. “I said no, James. Although I’m starting to think that you don’t care all too much about that.” 

Elias felt relieved as he watched Peter gently close the door behind him and Jonah… Jonah wanted to be angry but his body was betraying him, mixing up hormones and neuron signals to the point were he wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling anymore when he reached up to roughly wipe the blood and tears out of his (-his!-) eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Other people: Wouldn’t it be funny if Jonah still heard Elias’ voice?  
> Me: Yes… 'funny'.
> 
> What can I say folks you know the drill: If you wanna tell me what a horrible no good person I am, come yell at me in the comments or @simaraknows on tumblr.


End file.
